The seven days seemed to pass by in the blink of an eye. Richard was in the altar room once more, standing on a platform that extended from the wall as he looked down on the pool of blood before. The skies of the Frozen Throne were overcast, but there wasn’t any terrifying vortex like during Godfrey’s return. Norland’s planar portals were a millennium ahead of Faelor’s, and Asiris’s summoning formation didn’t cause as much of a ruckus as the original.
Space was already starting to crack above the altar, ripping wider and wider until two illusory figures flew out. The pool of blood was already at a full boil, some of the streams flying several metres high. The two figures were in no hurry to enter the pool immediately, instead taking a look around as they conversed.